Misunderstandings
by SopheroniPepperoni
Summary: "I need a purse big enough to fit a full CPU," she says. He's dumbfounded, and files away her request as something he never thought he'd hear. Ever.


**AN: Shout out to awritingpromptaday on tumblr for the prompt. I read it and for whatever reason thought of Soul and Maka. Modern!AU.**

* * *

It is a scorching hot day, and Soul "Eater" Evans wants to die.

Sure, he's cool inside with the air conditioning, but his job itself is so incredibly _uncool_ –selling handbags from the department store counter. When Liz had said she could get him a job, this wasn't what he'd had in mind.

But he figures it would be even more uncool if he got kicked out of his apartment because he couldn't make rent.

Sighing, he pulls out his phone, checking for a text, a notification, _anything_ to make the remaining two hours of his shift pass quicker. He doesn't notice the customer until he hears a soft clearing of the throat. _Shit._

His wine-red eyes shoot up, and he manages to look guilty until he takes in the would-be customer. She's rail thin and childish-looking, with wide green eyes and lanky blonde pigtails. She looks determined.

Soul gulps. Before he can open his mouth, the girl speaks.

"I need a purse big enough to fit a full CPU."

He's dumbfounded, and files away her request as something he never thought he'd hear. Ever.

"What."

She pulls herself up, seemingly ready to tell him off. He tries to recover a semblance of professionalism, although his follow up isn't very cool, either. "Can I ask why?" _Jeez, are you her mom?_ He holds her stare until she scrunches up her face in irritation.

"No. Now, do you have anything like that, or not." It's not a question, and Soul curses Liz for getting him this job where he has to deal with difficult customers.

"Uh, I guess? Never really been asked that before…" He trails off, peering at the glass shelves. Unlocking the case, he picks a bag at random.

The girl frowns. "That seems kinda small. Shouldn't it be bigger?" She shifts her stance, her hands coming to rest on her hips. Her voice is accusatory.

Soul fights back a snigger, not _too_ far removed from the teenage years to enjoy the unintentional innuendo. Instead, he drawls, "Do you even know what a CPU is?"

She fires back a question of her own, indignant. "Are you always this rude to customers?" Soul feels he cheeks heat a bit, irritated at himself and the whole damn situation. _Tch_.

"CPUs aren't really that big. So unless you need to fit an entire PC into the bag, this one should be just fine."

She sizes the bag up, glancing at him before noting the price. He sees a steely and somewhat mischievous look enter her eyes, and she grins triumphantly. "Aha. That idiot was wrong." Soul's pretty sure that comment wasn't made for him, and he's also pretty sure that this girl is crazy, because suddenly her whole demeanor changes.

Abruptly, her demeanor changes. Her shoulders relax, and she drops the scowl for a genuine smile. She rubs the back of her neck, and gives a nervous little laugh. "Sorry about that. My dumb friend dared me to ask that. Turns out he doesn't know how big a CPU is, either."

Soul squints at her. "What?"

She titters again, rose dancing up into her cheeks. "Just forget about it. Have a nice day-" She looks at his nametag – "Soul." And she dances away, leaving him in the proverbial dust about what the hell just happened.

It is a scorching hot day, but Soul "Eater" Evans finds the strength to finish his shift.

* * *

It's two months later, and Soul Evans feels like he is dying.

The city is in the midst of a late summer heat wave, and he is regretting his decision to shoot hoops in the park. He adjusts the sweatband on his forehead, and catches movement out of the corner of his eye.

It's just a girl running. Being called a "perv" would be the epitome of uncool, so he is looking away when it hits him.

It's the pig-tailed girl who asked for the bag who could fit the CPU. That was a conversation he was unlikely to ever forget. She has headphones in her ears, and he can't help but notice that her gait is sure and measured. The thought _she has nice legs_ flits almost unbidden through his mind, and he turns away with coloring cheeks.

During a break a bit later, Soul can't help but notice that she is still running along the path. Another runner has appeared, too, some ways behind her. From his distance, Soul can make out ropy muscle and bright hair, and as he continues his observation it becomes obvious that he's following the girl.

He waits, confirming his suspicions. He doesn't know why he does it –it's not like he owes her anything, anyway—but Soul stands and heads toward the running path, leaving the court behind. _It's way uncool for guys to stalk girls_ , he thinks, scowling.

The girl passes him once more, side-eyeing him and his proximity. Soul notices the hitch in her step as she recognizes him. He puts on an unconcerned air as the other runner approaches, and sticks out his foot.

"OW! What the _hell_ , man?" The boy, around his own age, hits the pavement face-first. His hair is dyed an obnoxious blue. He jumps up and jams a finger in Soul's face. "You SO did that on purpose!" Soul doesn't back down and sneers, his smile all teeth.

"Black*Star!" Both males turn to look as the girl jogs back, irritation clear on her features. "What did I tell you about fighting with strangers?"

"Pfft, _he_ started it!" Black*Star huffs, crossing his arms. "Douchebag tripped me."

Soul is incredulous. "You two know each other?"

Black*Star shoots him a look, muttering something that sounds like, "The hell? She knows my _name_ , doesn't she?" while the girl merely sizes Soul up, her face scrunched.

"You're the bag guy, aren't you!" She breaks into a smile, and Black*Star chokes back a laugh. Soul scowls and rubs his neck, wishing he had left well enough alone. _So much for being cool_.

Trying to extricate himself from the situation that's becoming more mortifying by the second, he mumbles, "Yeah I'm the bag guy. Listen, I thought this punk was following you…"

Black*Star doubles over, his loud guffaws carrying across the park. "ME, follow _TINY TITS_? AS IF." It takes everything in Soul to resist checking her out. The girl flushes and socks Black*Star square in the arm.

"HEY! I have a name, you jerk! USE IT."

Wiping his eyes, the blue haired boy straightens up. "Geez, Maka! What you lack in the chest department, you sure make up with your right hooks!"

Soul glances back to the girl, eager to change the topic. "Maka, huh?"

She nods, green eyes cooling down to something more friendly. "Uhuh. And you're…Soul, right?"

"Aa."

" _Soul_? What a weird-ass name."

"Like Black*Star is any better."

Sighing, Maka shoos away Black*Star's retort. "You're such an idiot, Black*Star. First that dumb CPU-bag dare, now this…why do I hang out with you again?"

"BECAUSE I WILL SURPASS GOD, MAKA!"

She just drowned him out, and Soul pulled a face. "And you're delusional again. Great." Pointedly ignoring him, she looks past Soul. "You play basketball?"

He shrugged. "A little."

"Want to play a pick-up game, and forget this whole misunderstanding?"

Soul knows when to recognize an olive branch, and he accepts it, eager to move on from the weirdest conversation he's ever had. "Sure."

Maka smiles in relief, her green eyes crinkling. The thought _she's cute_ flashes through his mind, and Soul doesn't exactly regret this misunderstanding.

It is in the middle of a heat wave, but everything seems a bit cooler once Soul "Eater" Evans meets Maka.


End file.
